Words Never Heard
by 46captain46
Summary: Death was something the Winchesters constantly had to deal with. He should have gotten used to it by now. But this is too much. This is too fucking much. Implied Destiel...you've been warned.
Soo, I was in the mood for some angst, some tragedy…..well, you get it. I died while writing this, but it's okay I'm fine now.

As always a huge thank you to my beautiful beta ForeverShippingJohnlock, and my dear friend MyLovelyMarauder that's always there for me.

Disclaimer: I don't own them. This plot is solely mine, but the characters surely don't belong to me. But I'm not giving up….

Soooo, off with the story. Please don't kill me.

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The limp body in front of him is the worst thing he has ever encountered in his whole life as a hunter. No, no, no, no, NO! It didn't happen. Not now, not ever… He knows he's lying to himself, but there's no one else there to do so, just like every other damn time. He wants, he _needs_ to live in a false illusion, to not have to face the cruel world that he has lost so much by and – ironically – still fights to protect.

His heart is beating faster with every passing second as the reality of what just happened threatens to sink in. He fights it, as hard as he can but he can't run away from it, he has learnt that lesson too early, too brutally. Eventually, it wins. One more time. Breaking him even more. He is tired of all this loss. Oh so very tired.

A pair of lifeless eyes stare back at him and the warmth, the _life,_ that once inhabited those – now cold – pools of blue is gone, long gone. _If only he had been a little faster._ His mind is repeating the sentence again and again like it's trying to go back in time and prevent this. Because only God knows how much it hurts. One may think that he should at least be used to it by now, but that's not the case. No one, absolutely no one could get used to seeing someone so important to them die. Though, this time it was worse, a lot worse. This time it felt too real. This time he knew he wasn't getting him back. Never again.

He is still frozen in place, and his whole body seems to have betrayed him. He is trying to keep his emotions at bay, his tears from escaping. But how can he? When the blood is everywhere and his heart is bleeding too. When this time he is certain he won't be able to glue the pieces back together. When he knows that all is lost. _How can he?_

And the answer is clear. _He can't_.

And he runs. He runs as he abandons everything and goes closer to him. It's always him, always the one that can drive him to the edge and the only that can pull him back. And right now… right now, he is ready to fall.

Time seems to have slowed down and there's nothing else that matters than getting closer. Getting there in time. Before all is lost, before his heart is broken beyond any repair, before his soul stops shining.

He almost collapses when he gets there and really he is feeling so damn tired, so damn numb, so damn broken and shattered. He cradles the angel's head to his calloused hands and he starts shaking him, hard, violently, as if the sudden movement will wake him from his slumber. After a while he stops seeing clearly. Everything around him is blurry and tears trickle down his face, betraying him once more, and he screams. The sound is animalistic. Desperate and full of so much anger and hurt and he can't stop, he can't feel anything other than the pain in his heart, the missing of his soul, the silence that surrounds him.

He screams until there's no sound to be made. He screams until he has no voice to continue. He screams, determined to reach Heaven and bring his love back. He screams, until the fight has left his body and he almost forgets how to breathe. He screams, like it's the last thing he will ever do.

He doesn't move. Instead he stops shaking the unmoving body and hugs the now lifeless angel tightly. He never wants to let go, let the little warmth that remains vanish, but he supposes it's a little too late for that now. He doesn't even make a move to wipe away the tears. After all, there's no one to see them. Nothing matters right now. Not when Cas was his lifeline, his will to live, his strength to keep going. The sharp intake of breaths is the only sound in the empty alley. He thought he could keep it in, fight it, but he was wrong.

And Dean Winchester, the best hunter of them all, lets it all out. He starts sobbing, grasping the body even more tightly against his chest, the only thing that keeps him for shattering into millions of pieces.

Sam comes in. At first he can't spot his brother anywhere and he starts to worry he has gotten injured, or even worse, killed.

He eventually sees him, desperately clutching a body against him, but Sam can't identify who it belongs to. Suddenly, he hears something he has never heard before. His brother, his big, strong brother, sobbing. That's when he sees who lays on his lap. Castiel. His friend, the angel who did everything for them. Sam suddenly feels sick to his stomach.

He chooses not to go closer. He can't provide his big brother with the thing he needs right now. Right now he doesn't need comfort, just his angel to come back.

Suddenly, Sam wishes his brother was dead. He wishes Dean could go upstairs to the big guy and show him just how much it took out of him, how much it destroyed him to let the angel go. He wishes Dean could have his Heaven, his happy ending.

But Sam had long ago learned that wishing did nothing more than crush your hopes into even smaller and sharper pieces. The only thing hope and wishes did, was leave you with a broken soul, a bleeding heart and red eyes.

He hears his brother talking. He's frantic, he's desperate, _he's alone_. Sam knows it's unbearable and he leaves the other to grieve in silence, hoping the void is enough to keep him company. As he gets out, tears trickle down his face. He doesn't wipe them, he doesn't even acknowledge them as he walks to the closest bar to order a bottle of whiskey. Losing a friend is terrible, losing your whole life is indescribable.

Eventually he returns to the motel, but sleep will not take him, tormenting him with reality. After a few hours Dean comes back with the limp body lying on his hands. His expression is cold, stoic, _empty._

When sleep decides to welcome the brothers the hushed _'I love you'_ is the only thing that both breaks and fills the silence surrounding them.

Regret hangs in the air as these three words were never uttered, but most importantly, never heard.

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Sooo, that's it guys. I hope you like it, and don't come to kill me while I sleep. And reviews are always appreciated!

Byeeee,

46captain46


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